


Experimental Casualties

by yourdykeinshiningarmor



Series: Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo Prompts [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Poetry, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourdykeinshiningarmor/pseuds/yourdykeinshiningarmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg is tired after a long shift at work but it looks like Sherlock has been busy too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experimental Casualties

**Author's Note:**

> My fill for the Rare Ship Bingo prompt of 'poem'.

Greg trudged up the stairs, tired after working nearly thirty-six hours on a double homicide. They had solved it rather quickly, so they hadn’t needed Sherlock’s help, but the suspect kept slipping past them. Now that he was securely behind bars, thoughts of tea (or maybe a beer), dinner, then to bed to cuddle with Sherlock (whether the detective wanted to or nor) were all that filled his mind.

He hung up his coat on the hook and noted that Sherlock’s was there too. After toeing off his shoes, he wandered into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. He settled against the counter, eyes not focused on anything, while he waited for it to boil. It was then that he noticed a folded piece of paper of the table… with his name on it in Sherlock’s untidy scrawl. Greg frowned but cautiously leaned forward and picked it up.

“Sherlock?” Greg called out in question, curious as to why the man had left him a note. Greg thought he heard something bang about in the bedroom but there was no actual reply. Hesitantly, he open the note.

_The spleen in the crisper is red._  
_The eyes in the microwave are blue._  
_I’m sorry for what happened in the bedroom,_  
_You know how much I love you._

“Sherlock?” he said again, his tone more serious this time.

The man in question slid into the doorway. “Did you read it?” he asked sheepishly.

“I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

Greg frowned again. It must truly be spectacular for him to have apologised, twice, before Greg even saw it or…

“Are you hurt?” Greg asked seriously.

“No!” Sherlock answered quickly, holding his arms out in a way that invited Greg to come inspect if he wanted. Sherlock _knew_ nothing angered Greg more than hiding an injury. It wasn't as if John wouldn't patch him up if needed, but since he didn't live at Baker Street, it was definitely more of a hassle.

“Right, good.” He looked down again at the note in his hand. “So do I even want to ask?”

“Well…” Sherlock’s hands fidgeted with his insecurity.

Greg let out a breath and stepped closer. Sherlock really was quite adorable like this: insecure and uncharacteristically sincere. After all these years, he was still terrified Greg might finally ‘come to his senses’ and leave forever.

“Listen, so long as you aren't hurt, then we’ll deal with it, yeah?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Can’t promise anything about Mrs. Hudson, though,” he added with a laugh and a quick kiss to Sherlock’s lips.

Sherlock smiled this time.

“Right, then, lead on.” Greg gestured with his hand for Sherlock to head towards the bedroom.

They stepped in and Greg was sure his jaw was going to hit the floor. He wasn't even entirely sure what he was seeing.

“What…” he glanced back to Sherlock.

“How…” Greg turned back around took another step forward.

“Why…” he crossed his arms and ducked his chin, taking several deep breathes. A gentle touch to his arm pulled him back.

Sherlock looked like he might actually be on the verge of tears. “Greg,” he swallowed, “I truly am sorry. Nothing else was damaged and a replacement has already been ordered. It will be here tomorrow.”

Greg nodded until he finally found his voice. He tried not to sound too cross but it was difficult. “How in god’s name did you manage to bloody _eviscerate_ our mattress? Looks like one of those internet meme’s where the dog has chewed his way into a couch!”

“Well…” Sherlock began, clearly looking for the right words.

Greg held up a hand to stop him. “No, let me guess, experiment?”

Sherlock nodded his answer.

Greg’s head absently nodded too as he looked over the carnage that was formerly their (quite comfy) mattress.

“Well, guess its up to John’s old room, unless you’d rather kip on Mrs. Hudson’s couch.”

“You’re not going to leave?”

“No.”

“Storm off for a walk or a pint?”

“No.”

“Call John and complain about me again?”

“No.” Greg laughed this time. “I am planning on going to bed, preferable with you by my side. This isn't the first thing you’ve destroyed and I'm sure it won't be the last.” Greg turned and headed down the hallway, stopping at the linen closet. “Although, if you can refrain from harming another mattress, it would be greatly appreciated,” he added before heading up the second flight of stairs, tea and dinner forgotten.

Sherlock stood there for several minutes, shocked that Greg had taken it so well. When his phone pinged, it took him a few seconds to realize what it was and look at the awaiting message. As he read it, a huge grin filled his face. It was childish and plebeian to be sure, but it was from Greg, a Greg who still wasn't going to leave him, short term or otherwise.

He started walking towards the other bedroom, reading the message once more.

_Your brain is too big._  
_Your common sense is too small._  
_No matter the result of your experiments,_  
_I will love you through it all._

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and contructive criticism appreciated here or on [Tumblr](http://yourdykeinshiningarmor.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What You Could Have Lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604756) by [voxangelus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxangelus/pseuds/voxangelus)




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